


Prove It

by oly_chic



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Drunk Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, cross-faction interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: (Chapter 1) Megatron has some apologizing to do for nearly killing Rodimus during the war, but words may not be enough.(Chapter 2) Hot Rod needs a ship to get back to the Autobots and the best looking one turns out to be already occupied. When things go from bad to worse, will Deadlock and Hot Rod be able to stand each other long enough for a truce to hold?
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	1. Megatron/Rodimus

**Author's Note:**

> As a belated gift of sorts for me being on AO3 for 5 years (writer longer), I decided to write a couple of fairly rare pairs. I started writing this during Prowl Week in April because after seven back-to-back fics of Prowl I needed a break from my norm.
> 
> This was supposed to be PWP with only a dash of plot. Then the plot container tipped over and dumped more than a dash.
> 
> I don't own Transformers.
> 
> While it’s much later than this takes place, for size comparison of Megatron’s fingers to Rodimus I offer you this picture: 

His commlink buzzed to life as a call came. ::Rodimus?::

The called mech grimaced. It was Megatron, and Rodimus wasn't fond of dealing with the former warlord. ::What?::

::Are you in your habsuite?::

::About to not be, but yeah. Going down to Swerve's soon.:: He was getting ready now by buffing his paint job because he was starting to not look the role of a proper captain. A captain should be almost shiny. Not too shiny or else he would blind the crew, but with enough shine to look good while making speeches.

Just as Rodimus was sitting on the side of his berth to buff the last part of his calves there was a chime at his habsuite door. His helm perked up. "Who's there?" he yelled while pausing.

"It's Megatron," came a voice barely raised enough to make it through the door.

Rodimus scrunched his face in disapproval. "I'm sorry to have missed you, but please leave a message after the beep. BEEP!"

The answer to his fake voicemail message was another door chime and a reply. "Rodimus, don't make me follow you down to Swerve's and have this conversation in public."

Now he was frowning. "Fine, fine. Just hold on." He tossed his buffing supplies off to the side of his berth, the side nearest to the door.

Rodimus hit the button on the wall by the door to open it, revealing his co-captain. Megatron stepped into the room, barely making it through the standard door due to shoulder width and height. Rodimus backed off until he was standing halfway between the door and his berth. "What's up? What's going on that talking around others is so bad?"

"We need to talk about how you've been skittish around me since we started co-captaining together."

"Excuse me? Skittish? I have _not_ been skittish!" he defended.

Megatron frowned. "You've been jumpy, especially if I stand behind you or raise my voice. When you don't know I'm around you're different with the crew. More upbeat. You have negative reactions you know I’m nearby, as if you're on edge."

The flame-colored Autobot defensively shrugged. "Don't know what you're talking about. Don't act as if you know me, Megatron."

"I have gotten to know you enough to see nervousness when around me. You aren't the first one to behave like this. Now tell me what's going on?"

"You don't command me. We're co-captains, and that makes us equal. Equals can't command each other."

Megatron almost stifled a sigh. "Then treat me like an equal and show me respect by answering my question."

"Like you respected me when you basically killed me?" A hand flew up to Rodimus's mouth. It slipped out; he had been trying to keep it in after the former warlord switched sides, but it grew harder since Megatron seemed more and more determined to talk to him. Now it was out, and he knew Megatron was not someone to kindly forget.

"I see... we never have addressed that, have we?" Megatron rhetorically asked. "I thought I did kill you but then you showed back up alive. You must hate me for not only the war but nearly ending your life."

Hate was a strong word, and it was what he felt when he confronted Megatron prior to the _Lost Light_ leaving Cybertron again. Now he was a jumble of emotions when it came to Megatron. "I did completely hate you. Now you're a million different things and I can't decide what to think of you."

"But you still hold me accountable for shooting you." It wasn't really a question.

Rodimus clenched and unclenched his fists. "How could I not? Dying isn't normal. And make no mistake of it, you did kill me. It was only for the matrix I lived again."

"I see, so when you see me you must see more than just a former enemy but also your killer."

Rodimus's frown returned. "Yes and no. I mean... well, I mean... I don't know what to think, okay? I lived, so let's forget I said anything."

"I can't forget something that so clearly bothers you, something that is my fault." Megatron took two steps closer, and his long stride put him almost within his reach of Rodimus. "What are the million different things?"

"Oh well let's see, there's at least a little bit of hate still in there. Are you sure you want to go down this path?" Rodimus hoped that admission and challenge would stop Megatron cold.

It didn't. "I think this path needs to be taken."

"Fine! Fine, you want to go down this path, then let's go down this path." Rodimus could feel his body heating up as he let himself feel what he'd been pushing down. "I'm scared and angry, alright? I'm angry at you for making me feel scared. I know it's not sane to still be scared when you haven't done anything since becoming my co-captain, but it's there. It's there and it won't go away." Rodimus wrapped his arms around his torso and looked away.

Megatron was quiet for a moment. "And that fear hasn't gotten any better since leaving Cybertron."

"Not true, it actually did after I started working with you," Rodimus confessed as he looked back enough to see Megatron's peds. "It's still there but now I don't want to launch myself into space to get away from you anymore."

"A small blessing."

"Was that sarcasm?" Rodimus looked back and his arms loosened.

Megatron shook his helm. "You know me better than that. I would hate someone I admire to want to launch himself into space when he's around me."

Rodimus released his arms and turned completely around, cocking his helm to the side. "Someone you admire? What would someone like you admire about me?"

"You've successfully adapted your leadership skills to this new world of peace, and you do it without sacrificing a piece of yourself. You're bold and without shame; completely brazen and that takes courage."

Megatron took a step forward, putting him only one small pace away from Rodimus. "And you are courageous; don't doubt that for a klik. You've shown strength in situations I couldn't, like confronting your opponents with confidence when you're not the superior one." Another step and Megatron stood tall above Rodimus.

Rodimus was closely watching Megatron while being praised. When Megatron was very close to him all Rodimus could muster as a response was to silently look up into his optics. That wasn’t an easy feat, to make Rodimus silent.

Megatron continued, "The last thing I want right now is for you to be afraid of me. Do you know why, Rodimus?"

"No," Rodimus replied, still too stunned for much words.

"Because if someone you admire and respect fears you, then that stands in the way of a good relationship. And I want us to have a good relationship. Tell me, what can I do to make you stop fearing me?"

Rodimus blinked at Megatron's last words. He touched his chassis. "I don't know if it will go away, just like these faint scars I have beneath this replacement armor haven’t gone away."

Megatron's large hand came up and wrapped itself around Rodimus's hand, engulfing it while staying on his chassis. "And for that I'm deeply sorry that I can't go back and fix it. Surely there must be something, if your feelings towards me have improved from a desire to escape me."

Rodimus shrugged and tried to not let his warm, covered hand affect him too much. “When someone makes me feel bad, I want them to turn it around and make me feel good until it buries the pain.”

“And what makes you feel good?”

“Well right now hearing you of all mechs say I’m admirable is helping. Not that you’re getting away with it that easily,” he hurriedly added.

“Are words really enough to help you forgive me?”

“Uh, not usually. Especially not in this case.” Truth was that Rodimus didn’t just love praise, but he also liked to be physically adored. Not in a sweet way, for Rodimus wasn’t overly sweet, but adored as in becoming his partner’s whole world while engaging in something fun. That wasn’t something he would tell his co-captain because things would end up awkward.

It was as if Megatron read his mind. “A mech like yourself must love physical attention as well. You’ve never struck me as one who shuns touch. Verbal praise no longer comes naturally to me, and I’ve said as much as I can, but there are other ways to express approval.”

“Huh?” was all Rodimus got out before Megatron’s grasp on his hand tightened and the tall mech bent down to kiss him. The kiss was firm but not bruising.

Initial shock overcame Rodimus long enough for his body to respond first by a sudden flood of warm, starting from his lips. It took his mind a klik to catch up, and it felt many emotions, including panic and fear.

Rodimus pulled back and in a low voice said, “I can’t. There’s still so much fear.”

“Don’t give into the fear unless you’re truly uncomfortable with this. Are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not _un_ comfortable but I’m not comfortable, either.”

“Then let me make you more than comfortable if you’re willing. Let me make you feel better to the point that fear isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when you think of me.”

Rodimus parted his lips to say something, really to say anything, but no words came out. Somehow Megatron was developing a knack for stopping words from coming out of the talkative mech.

Megatron took that as an invitation to continue, and he pressed forward to resume firmly kissing Rodimus. This time Megatron’s tongue rubbed against the lower inner ridge of Rodimus’s slightly parted lips.

It was nice to be wanted, and Rodimus wanted to be wanted. He didn’t want fear to stop him from feeling good; fear wasn’t something that stopped him in the past. He opened his mouth for better access and at the same time his uncaptured hand reached up to Megatron’s other arm.

Megatron’s free arm moved as soon as it was touched, and his arm wrapped itself around the smaller mech’s lower back. The hand tugged on Rodimus’s waist and Megatron took a tiny step forward, encouraging Rodimus to step back.

Rodimus stepped back while maintaining their locked lips until his upper thighs touched his berth. Megatron let go of Rodimus’s held hand and used both arms to pick him up from underneath his aft and place him kneeling on the berth. That broke their kiss.

He marveled at how Megatron still had strength left in him enough to move him around like he weighed nothing. It was even stranger to be slightly above Megatron’s helm.

Megatron touched Rodimus’s chassis, his fingers splayed against the warm metal. “To think that I’ve marked you in such a way is unwanted. Even if temporary, I intend to mark you with good memories.”

Rodimus shuddered. “No one marks me, but maybe for a joor.”

“Maybe for a joor,” Megatron echoed and then punctuated his words with a kiss to Rodimus’s chassis, over the hidden scars. His arms surrounded Rodimus’s back, beneath his spoiler, and Megatron trapped Rodimus in his grip while trailing sultry kisses in random patterns, as if he could see the crisscross outline of the scars. Rodimus moaned heavily and let his helm tilt back.

After the kisses got to the lower regions of his previous wound, Megatron’s gripped tightened around Rodimus’s back to turn him ninety-degrees so he was kneeling in line with the berth’s length. Rodimus groaned, “You move me around too easy.”

“That’s because you make for a pliable partner.”

“I’ll show you pliable.”

“Undoubtedly.” Megatron freed his top arm and slowly pushed Rodimus back, allowing the bigger mech to climb up onto the berth and join him. Rodimus felt small underneath Megatron, but that aroused him more. His interfacing panels were heating up faster than his body. His spark quivered at what was happening.

Megatron nearly laid on top of him, one arm still behind Rodimus’s back and the other bent up high on the berth. Megatron’s upper body weight was balanced by his unrestricted arm, and his legs were intertwined with Rodimus’s. His hand rubbed Rodimus’s crest and his helm sunk back into his berth.

“Mmm,” Rodimus hummed. “Now that’s _ngggh_ good.”

“Then it deserves more attention.” His hand went still and Rodimus whined, but Megatron shifted until his mouth was aligned with the top of the crest. He started sucking the other side of Rodimus’s crest while his hand resumed massaging.

The intensity was growing by the klik, and Rodimus started squirming. Shortly after he started Megatron relaxed his upper body and used his weight to trap Rodimus until he was locked into place.

Rodimus was expecting some sort of verbal admonishment but none came. He realized if he wanted noise, it would have to be him. He failed to get his voice back to normal as he moaned, “It’s too much teasing.”

Megatron huffed but it wasn’t an angry huff. “No, it’s not. Not when my plan is to forever change your mind of me.”

“Don’t know about forever, but just don’t stay up there too long. It’ll get too sensitive fast.”

There was no verbal answer to that but Megatron slowed down. He kept slowing down until he came to stop, and then he moved on to using his glossa to graze the edges along the side of Rodimus’s helm, especially by his audio receptor. His hand rested on the berth and he shifted his weight, but he remained solidly on Rodimus.

Rodimus couldn’t stop moaning and occasional vocalizing his need for Megatron to move more south. Finally Megatron did, but only as far south as Rodimus’s neck. He licked it and nibbled at it until he paused to heavily ask, “Rodimus, what do you think of biting?”

“It’s not something I’ve indulged in a long time.”

“Long enough to forget or long enough to want it again?”

“Both.” He wasn’t sure what to expect, for only one time was his neck cables bitten and by someone with more fangs than Megatron. It was still thrilling to see if it was close to as he vaguely remembered.

Megatron resumed his torturous teasing around Rodimus’s neck until the flame-colored Autobot couldn’t take it anymore. “When are you going to – _nnngh_!”

Megatron chuckled from around the bite. It was secure but it didn’t break any cables. “When you begged for it.”

“You like begging? Then I need you a lot further south.”

Megatron moved his mouth a little more south and bit again. Rodimus’s whole body seized from the delightful intensity of having someone so strong bite him. “Not what I meant!”

“I know.”

Rodimus protested and then felt Megatron’s arm around his waist slide to his aft. The hand rubbed his aft as it came down until it let go and returned to the area between Rodimus’s legs. He palmed Rodimus’s panels and the valve covered opened to reveal a hot valve. His spike cover was next, and his spike pressurized fast.

“My,” Megatron murmured around the bite, “I shouldn’t expect any less that you run hot even during interfacing.”

“Yeah, it’s my thing.”

Megatron didn’t comment on that, instead taking one of his large fingers and caressing the outside of Rodimus’s valve. Rodimus tried grinding down on it, but Megatron’s weight held him in check. “Don’t bother trying to take control of the situation; I’ll be the one to set the pace.”

“Fragger.”

“Is that really surprising?”

“Okay, now _that_ was sarcasm! Ahh!” Rodimus cried out as the finger dipped into his valve’s entrance. “That finger feels bigger than it looks.”

“That’s because you’re tight. Don’t worry, I’ll loosen you up so you can take me.”

Rodimus wanted to ask how big was Megatron eluding to being, but the finger pressed inward a little more before pulling out. It wasn’t the size of a standard spike, but it was at least half the diameter of one.

Megatron alternated playing with his anterior node and slowly thrusting his finger inside Rodimus’s valve, getting deeper each time and leaving Rodimus a mewling mess of lubricant and dripping transfluid by the time his finger was buried inside of him. Periodically Megatron would accentuate a thrust with an intense nibble of Rodimus’s throat cables.

“Okay, I’m so totally ready,” Rodimus begged.

“You’re not even close to ready. You’re still tight around my one finger.”

“I really don’t think I can take much more of this.”

“But you can, and you will.” Megatron emphasized his words by wiggling his buried finger.

“Then bury your second finger and let’s get going.”

“Not yet. I need something shallow but wide before I use two fingers,” Megatron said as he moved down south, this time his whole body. “Squirm again and I’ll stop so I can continue using my weight against you.”

“Fine,” Rodimus gave into the order. His vents had hitched when he realized what Megatron meant by something shallow but wide.

Megatron hooked Rodimus’s legs over his shoulder and then raised himself up a little until Rodimus’s aft was off the berth. He wrapped his arms around Rodimus’s thighs and held them tightly in place, preventing Rodimus from moving his legs. Rodimus was about to plea for more action when Megatron leaned in and licked the sensitive node.

Rodimus’s neck and upper back arched but he managed to keep his pelvic in place. Megatron licked and sucked on it until Rodimus was certain it swelled as much as it could, and then Megatron’s tongue lightly thrust into his valve.

Not squirming was up there for hardest thing Rodimus had to do since the war ended. Speeches he could do, but staying still? That was a hard command to obey. Not to mention having to fight back his impending overload charge. He didn’t want to overload and become too sensitive for the best part.

Megatron’s tongue kept to the outer rim and slightly deeper, and he kept going until Rodimus could feel his valve’s entrance ease up a bit. Megatron unhooked Rodimus’s legs and set him back down. He put a hand on the middle of Rodimus’s pelvic. “Squirming seems to be your default.”

“Well I didn’t know that until I started interfacing with the biggest tease of my life!”

“Then it’s my pleasure to teach you something about yourself. Even more you’ll remember me by,” Megatron smirked as his other hand’s index and middle finger brushed Rodimus’s entrance. “Take in a deep vent and relax.”

Rodimus did exactly that and on the ex-vent Megatron’s fingers pressed inside the rim. His vents sucked air right back in again at the feel of fingers definitely bigger than a standard spike.

Megatron held it there and gave him a moment to adjust before explaining, “I’m not going to take my fingers out again until you’re ready. I’m going to carefully thrust them until you can take all of it.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” Rodimus shakily replied. His valve was so hot and tight against the feel of those powerful fingers.

Megatron used his thumb to rub Rodimus’s node while making shallow thrusts in Rodimus’s valve. Each time it loosened up a little Megatron would push in deeper until _finally_ he was done.

Rodimus laid down from his arching position and nervously laughed. “That… that’s pretty damn full. Your spike is going to be a tight fit – hey wait, where is your spike?”

Megatron smirked again. “I’ve been keeping it inside so as not to scare you just yet. As I’m sure you figured out, it’s bigger than my two fingers.”

“That must be hard – no pun intended – to keep it locked up. Set it free and let me do the rest.”

Megatron shook his helm and pressed down on Rodimus’s pelvic. “I don’t want to waste time and have you tighten back up while we do that. There’s a reason my fingers are still inside you.” He twitched them as a reminder.

“YEAH, okay. Fair point.” Rodimus gasped as they wiggled and worked hard to not overload just from that.

He heard the soft sounds of an interface panel opening and looked down to see Megatron’s spike quickly pressurize. It was so large, and the red biolights glistened along the side, as did the underside when transfluid dribbled down.

The spike was the biggest he’d ever seen, and he didn’t fight his optics going wide. There was worry it wouldn’t fit, but also a hunger to try. “So how do we do this?”

Megatron aligned himself up with Rodimus’s valve, using his free hand to balance. “When I pull these fingers free, I’m going to enter you. Slowly.”

“Then hurry up fast, because my frame is getting frustrated over the lack of movement.”

“Trust me, there will be movement.” Megatron started softly scissoring as he backed out and Rodimus, now completely free, started squirming under the powerful pushes against his inner mesh.

As soon as Megatron’s hand was clear his large tip pressed the outside of the entrance. “Do it again and vent while relaxing.”

Just as before, as soon as Rodimus ex-vented Megatron entered. Rodimus’s hands spasm at the feel of something so big inside his sensitive rim. “Primus,” he said as he rolled his helm.

A chuckle of appreciation was his only response before Megatron moved very slowly inside with short thrusts. Normally Rodimus was one to get started as fast as his valve allowed, but each slide inward had him whimpering.

When Megatron was fully inside he stopped and rested back down on Rodimus, but his hands cupped under Rodimus’s helm and neck. Some of Megatron’s weight was back on Rodimus, but the rest was on his elbows. Megatron looked Rodimus deep in the optics. “Just focus on venting and soon you’ll be enjoying this.”

“Who says I’m not enjoying this? It’s just, ah, it’s just a little intense.”

“Ready?”

“Totally ready.”

Megatron started thrusting in and out, his pace almost as tortuously slow as it had been when first entering. That pace didn’t last long as it picked up. As it picked up Megatron’s forehelm dropped into the center collar of Rodimus’s armor. Rodimus let his optics closed and just let the waves of the thrusts wash over him.

“ _Nnnngh_ , getting ready to overload,” he moaned, drawing out each syllable.

Megatron suddenly stop. “Well we can’t have that so soon.”

Shocked at the sudden lack of movement and statement, Rodimus sputtered. “Too soon?! You call all of this too soon?!”

“Hush,” Megatron said and he added a bite to Rodimus’s nearby throat cables. “One position is not enough.”

“It is when you’ve been teased out of your mind and are stuffed with spike!”

Megatron didn’t respond and instead crawled down to the berth’s end and kneeled back up. His hands grabbed Rodimus’s hips and rubbed them. “Flip over. Aft in the air.”

“Please tell me this is your favorite final position,” Rodimus begged as he flipped over and got up on all fours, aft a little elevated. Megatron’s hands stayed with his hips the entire time, allowing his hips to roll so that Megatron’s arms didn’t cross.

Megatron’s grip on his hips tightened. Rodimus couldn’t see Megatron line up with him again, but he knew it the moment Megatron’s spike nudged his valve. Megatron murmured, “You’ve made the berth so slick. I’m going to need to widen my stance.” Megatron used his knees to widen Rodimus’s knees so that Megatron could do the same.

As soon as they were settled Megatron entered again, this time about half as slow as the last time. Megatron's pace picked up faster this time as well, and thanks to the new angle Rodimus's vision was swimming. Each thrust stretched him to the max, and Megatron never faltered in speed or depth.

Everything was starting to burn up, and he could feel the overload long threatening him begin forcing to expel. His neuronet synapses were snapping and almost destructively buzzing with excess energy. "Going... to... overload..."

Megatron's response was to pick up pace. "Don't hold back anymore, then."

The permission to finally overload was what he needed. The mental hold to fight back was released and the overload overtook him. He cried out, transfluid spilled, and his valve spasm with calipers clamping down as hard as they could in the stuffed valve; his face landed on the berth but Megatron held his hips up as he thrust with abandonment of self-control.

Rodimus nearly offlined from the potent overload, and the continued thrusts through the aftershocks kept his helm spinning. He groaned and then his helm shot straight up as he felt Megatron overload, his spike hitting his ceiling node and ejaculating transfluid. Against his ceiling there was nowhere for it to go but flow backwards. The large spike's transfluid pressed his stretched walls even further so it could escape.

Megatron nearly collapsed on him, barely catching himself with both his arms. His fans were louder than normal, but Rodimus's were roaring. They stayed like that for a moment until Megatron gently pulled out and Rodimus whined at the aftershocks followed by emptiness. He could feel the transfluid dripping out of him, but it still felt empty.

Megatron pulled himself up and sat back on his calves. "Can you move?"

"I'm not even conscious right now," Rodimus slurred.

"Then you can at least hand me those buffing rags."

Rodimus groaned as he flimsily reached over and grabbed a couple of rags, tossing it back at Megatron. His co-captain caught the wide toss and used the rags to make the berth less messy. It wasn't clean, and it wouldn't be with Rodimus's valve still leaking, but it wasn't covered in pools of lubricant and transfluid.

Megatron used Rodimus's upright hips to nudge him to roll over and lay flat. Rodimus flopped onto his back, one arm draped off the edge and the other haphazardly laying across his chassis. Megatron lied down as well, but more on his side and even then he was almost too wide for the berth with Rodimus on it. He placed an arm over Rodimus's.

"I, uh, yeah," Rodimus incoherently started. He tried again. "That wasn't where I expected my night to go."

"Neither did I expect it."

"You started it," Rodimus pointed out as he looked at Megatron. His co-captain's expression was more relaxed than normal, although he wouldn't call it at ease.

"Does not mean I _expected_ it. I expected an argument."

"Then why'd you do it?"

Megatron sighed. "Must we analyze this? I thought it was better to replace your bad memories with this than try doing the same with an argument. Did it succeed?"

"What bad memories?" Rodimus joked.

"Good, that's what I want to hear. I want to know that when you look at me, it's not with desire to jump out of an airlock but to jump in my berth."

Rodimus raised an optic ridge. "You mean you think there's going to be a next time?"

"Of course. Do you really think you can resist me after this?"

He faked pouting. "I don't know, but what I do know is I need to get you back for this."

Megatron smirked. "You can try."


	2. Hot Rod / Deadlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loose connection between chapter 1 & chapter 2.

Sometime after Megatron left Rodimus reflected on what had happened. Laying on a clean berth, he looked up without really seeing the ceiling. Instead he was seeing Megatron and all their amorous activities and thought about what each moment made him feel. Giddy wasn’t quite right, but it was close. Being confused was also definitely close to what he felt. He hadn’t been this confused for a while over interfacing – since he was last bitten, actually. He thought about that orn and how it came about with Drift, or rather Deadlock back then.

* * *

Once again unlucky, he was marooned on this hideous planet, Hot Rod quietly lamented to himself. The red planet was nothing but dirt and dead fauna, with tall mountains in the background. He had no idea why there was a small battle instigated by Decepticons on this planet, other than perhaps they liked battle, or they found a secret energon vein. If he could get off this rock, then he could tell someone his theory.

His team had fled in a panic when the Decepticons started overrunning them, and since Hot Rod had ended up on the sidelines, they left him behind. He was angry about it, and now his options were to search the planet to see if he could steal a ship. The Decepticons had to have at least one ship somewhere, but he hoped for a single-pilot sized transporter or fighter.

Hot Rod alternated between driving and sneaking around in root mode, depending on the ambient noise levels and whether they could disguise an engine. After what felt like an eternity of skirting around where he figured the Decepticon camp was located, he spotted unnatural structures off in the distance. Those could very well be ships, and at least a couple of them were small.

As the ships grew closer Hot Rod started to see Decepticons walking around or boasting to each other in small groups. The numbers he saw looked about right for the battle, so chances were that every one of his enemies were out and about.

Finally, the ships were within full sight and Hot Rod sized them. There were three single-pilot fighter ships, but only one appeared to be in good shape. Chances were that one had the best chances of making it to the nearest Autobot base, which wasn’t exactly nearby.

His efforts to make it to that ship, naturally the furthest away, were arduous but successful. He slipped on board after bypassing the simple door lock. Based on the lock it was an older ship.

Hot Rod saw a skinny hallway, where the nearby end was the flight deck and the other end going to the cargo bay, with a pair of doors between the ends. One read “engine,” and the other read “private.”

He jumped up into the flight deck and looked it over. It was standard Cybertronian and he could work it. Now to hurry up before the owner came back.

The ship quickly powered up and Hot Rod punched in the coordinates to the nearest Autobot base before engaging the thrusters. While the power up phase was quick and smooth, the thrusters engaging was not. The ship lurched forward and then made a few questionable noises as it took to the air.

He hit cruising speed once he broke atmosphere and was high above the planet. Now to check the system indicators.

Hot Rod was in mid-check when he noticed a glint in the reflective cover of one of the system indicators and instinctually he ducked just as he heard the gun fire. He dove to the side and turned in time to see a white, black, and yellow Decepticon holding a gun. The Decepticon fired again but he managed to barely duck below it before diving forward and tackling the Decepticon. They fought with the Decepticon doing better, and Hot Rod was thrown back into the flight deck controls. He landed on a group of buttons with his aft and hands. The Decepticon’s fist came down hard but Hot Rod managed to roll to the side so the fist landed on the console instead. Suddenly there was beeping and a warning light flashing.

They both paused their fighting. “What’s going on?” Hot Rod asked as the Decepticon jumped in the chair.

After a quick look over the systems the Decepticon started cursing. “We fragged the navigation system.”

“Where we going?” Hot Rod hoped they were still going to where he programmed it and the system was stuck so the Decepticon couldn’t change course.

“Nowhere. We’re headed into deep space.”

Hot Rod pushed the Decepticon with his shoulder to see, only for the Decepticon to shove him right back. “No, that can’t be. How did that happen?”

“Most likely your aft redirected the coordinates, and my fist broke the equipment, so we’re locked in,” he ruefully replied.

“Now what? Go back to killing each other?”

“We do that and the winner will likely die because of ship failure. This ship isn’t in the best of shape and what on its way to repair overhaul. I was only on that planet for a klik to grab some energon as a halfway point. If we’re both willing to work together – and I’m gagging at the thought – then we might actually keep the ship running.”

Hot Rod grimaced. “And energon?”

“Got that plenty for now, but I wouldn’t recommend treating it like a feast.”

“Great, at least it’s not all downhill from here,” Hot Rod sarcastically retorted. “What needs repairs on this ship, and please tell me there’s enough tools here to actually do it.”

The Decepticon looked at him and darkly grinned, fangs poking out. “Just about all fluid and fuel systems need repair, and that’s a ‘maybe’ on the tools. Never mind how much damage we just did to the flight deck.”

“Mech, did I pick the wrong ship to steal.”

“You sure did. What’s your name, thief?”

“Hot Rod, and yours?”

“Deadlock.”

Hot Rod stepped back. He heard of the name and the terror that went with it.

Deadlock’s grin only got darker. “Yeah, you picked the wrong ship alright. Lucky for you I need you alive.”

“Yay…” Hot Rod emptily cheered. “Now what?”

“We work on getting the console repaired, and _maybe_ we can get the nav system fixed. Then we can fight each other until the victor gets to decide who’s territory we end up in.”

“Fine, but if you shoot me while I’m unarmed, I’m going to tell everyone you’re a cheater.”

They worked together on the flight deck and managed some repairs, but they couldn’t repair the console’s buttons enough to redirect the ship. Now it was the two of them flying into empty space and hoping for a rescue from their respective factions.

“Let’s start with the engine room,” Deadlock grunted. “I’ll take hydraulics and fuel; you take coolant and waste.”

“Lucky me.”

“Hey, even damaged waste systems can be bad for the ship’s survival.”

The silence between the two of them as they worked was killing Hot Rod. What could he talk about? The war was going to be a hot and contentious topic between them, no doubt. Given how war consumed their worlds after vorns of relentless violence, perhaps he should go earlier.

As he was bent over a floor-mounted coolant pipe in a mass of more pipes, located in the back of the room, he asked, “What were you doing before the war?”

Deadlock, who was working on a fuel line on the opposite side of the back wall, nonchalantly answered, “Nothing good.”

“Like what?” Hot Rod prompted. He really hoped this wasn’t the end of their conversation already.

“You could say I spent most of my times in the slums of Polyhex.”

“Like the Dead End?” Hot Rod didn’t contain his surprise. “Doing what? Recruitment?”

“Something like that at one point, after Autobot enforcers killed my friend.”

Hot Rod pressed his lips tight. He could take the bait, or he could sympathize with his own story of the Autobots prior to becoming one. “I don’t know what Prime that happened under, but I know the Autobots under Zeta Prime weren’t the best, at least when it came to my hometown.”

“Where are you from?” Deadlock lifted an optic ridge.

“Nyon.”

“Ah. So, another slum that suffered great tragedy.”

Hot Rod was about to demand Deadlock not speak ill of his hometown, but when he moved to better glare Deadlock in the optics, he realized it wasn’t mockery. Deadlock looked too solemn. “Yeah, ultimately I guess that’s what it boils down to. My city was neglected until it became the slums, until it became the city-wide version of the Dead End.”

Deadlock nodded. “For what it’s worth, I know that even the slums can hold value deep within your spark. Sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Hot Rod quietly replied.

They worked for another couple of breems before Hot Rod realized he needed to fetch some parts from the cargo bay. “Be back.” Deadlock’s only reply was an affirmative grunt.

He was halfway through fetching what he needed when Hot Rod heard a small explosion. The Autobot sprinted to the engine room where smoke poured out, and he ran inside to find Deadlock. The Decepticon was still in the back, and he was unconscious. He grabbed Deadlock and threw him over his shoulders to carry him a safe distance away, into the one private berth room. Plopping Deadlock down on the berth, he ran back to the engine room to make sure they weren’t about to go down in flames. There was a fire burning by a pool of fuel so Hot Rod grabbed the fire extinguisher.

As soon as the fire was smothered with the fans turned on to clear out the smoke, and the dripping fuel leak remedied, he went back to check on Deadlock. The Decepticon was still unconscious, still sprawled out on the berth. Hot Rod was no medic, but he had basic field training for trauma injuries. He hoped his forced partnership wasn’t about to dissolve and leave him alone.

The injuries weren’t severe, save for the moderate-size helm dent in the back that probably was the reason for the lack of consciousness. He knew that the medical kit was near the flight deck and he fetched it to patch up the other injuries.

When he finished patching up three small burns along Deadlock’s leg, he looked over the dent. There was a dent removing suction cup in the kit and theoretically it wasn’t hard to use. Rodimus took a deep in-vent and applied it.

There was a loud _pop_ and then the dent was back to normal. Hot Rod couldn’t see any more damage that needed medical intervention, as the rest was more cosmetic, so he put the kit back before returning to the small dining area within Deadlock’s private quarters. Now it was time to wait to see if Deadlock woke up. In the meantime, he could periodically check the engine room to make sure nothing had gotten worse.

A quarter of a joor later Deadlock’s optics flickered and stared at the ceiling. Hot Rod tried waiting for Deadlock to speak, but the talkative mech couldn’t hold it in when several silent kliks passed. “Well?”

“What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure. All I know is there was an explosion and then you needed medical help.”

Deadlock shot straight up only to grab the side of his helms and duck. “Is the explosion contained?”

“Yeah, I extinguished the fire, blew out the smoke, and stopped the dripping. Not sure what caused the explosion but nothing else happened, so I’d say it’s contained.”

“I’ll look it over shortly. Why did you save me?”

“Uh, so I don’t die as well?” Hot Rod questioningly answered. He wasn’t sure why that was news to Deadlock.

“Right, we’re dead if either of us is alone. I suppose that’s all the reason you need.” Deadlock had a funny expression on his face as his hands slipped away.

Hot Rod didn’t like Deadlock’s expression; it made him uncomfortable. “Us slum mechs got to stick together, am I right?” he joked.

“… Right.” There was a glint in Deadlock’s optic. “Tell you what, for saving me let’s have some of the engex I was saving.”

Hot Rod furrowed his optic ridges. “I don’t think you should be drinking right after a helm injury.”

Deadlock waved the concern off. “I’ll be fine with only a little.”

“Okay, then sure. So long as you don’t get so drunk you die on me after all the effort I put into saving you, I’m game.”

“Stay here, I’ll be back after I check the engine room and grab the engex.”

A couple of breems later they clinked their large glasses together in cheers for surviving almost a full orn, as if the gloom of their situation were only mildly dangerous. They talked about their homes prior to the war, going over details to see if they shared anything in common, going about it until Rodimus paused at the end of his second drink. “I’m already starting to feel it, and I have a right-here-and-now burning question – who gets the berth?”

“Drunkest mech gets the berth.”

Hot Rod laughed. “I may be feeling it, but it takes me a while to get drunk. And you’re injured!”

“So?”

“So? You’ll end up unconscious on the berth again and my semi-sober aft will have the floor as I make sure you don’t die!”

“Bottoms up then,” he smirked.

There was plenty of engex, enough to easily fill Hot Rod’s fourth round and Deadlock’s third. At that point Deadlock leaned forward and rolled his finger along the edge of his glass. “I must say, your confidence is as forward as your paint job.” His words weren’t terribly slurred, but they weren’t as crisp as normal.

Hot Rod blinked. “What do you mean?” His words were definitely not crisp.

“Hearing the stories of what you did while unaligned, and the lack of fear or attitude you’ve shown while hanging around a dangerous Decepticon like me, it tells me plenty about your strong sense of confidence.”

Hot Rod fought the shy smile by taking another sip of his nearly empty cup. “I think you win and get the berth.”

“Help me to it?”

“I guess I can do that,” he agreed, and he gulped down the last of his drink. Hot Rod went to Deadlock’s side and assisted lifting him out of the chair. As soon as Deadlock cleared the chair he gave Hot Rod a wolfish grin, and then he swiftly leaned in to catch Hot Rod’s lips in a firm kiss.

Hot Rod jerked his helm away just as Deadlock’s dentae grazed his lip. “Whoa, wait a klik! What was that?”

“Don’t tell me Autobots don’t know what a kiss is.” Deadlock smirked.

“No, not that. I meant what are _you_ doing kissing _me_?”

Deadlock shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of possibly dying in space without a good frag, and I can see an energy in you that’s very enticing. Plus, that confidence shining through has my engine revving.” He accentuated his last words with an engine rev.

“But you’re a Decepticon, and I’m an Autobot…” There was no denying that the Deadlock he was getting to know was alluring if it weren’t for that important fact.

Deadlock scoffed. “So what? What’s a badge mean right now, here in the dead of space when fighting isn’t an option? There’s no one here to judge you, and I promise I won’t tarnish your reputation regardless what happens after this.”

Hot Rod glanced to the side, trying to think more clearly. He wasn’t getting anywhere. “Why me? Is it just because I’m the only one available?”

“If that were only it then I’d take my spike in hand and deal with it myself. No, there’s so much more to it, because you’re so much more than just some mech standing by my side.” He leaned in for another fierce kiss. Hot Rod let him but didn’t respond yet.

Deadlock pulled back only a tiny bit, just enough to look Hot Rod in the optics. “I know you were something special the way you fought me for control of the ship, and since then I’ve been impressed how you’ve completely handled the situation without being phased the littlest bit. Now come on, let me rough up that pretty detailing just a little. I promise I got the supplies to get rid of paint transfers.” Deadlock brushed his hand against Hot Rod’s face and then firmly grasped it before going in for a third kiss.

This time Hot Rod did respond, his returned kiss hesitant but growing. Everything that Deadlock said grew a fire in him and he wanted to let it burn. _What does a badge mean right now_ , echoed in his audios, along with words of praise from someone as fierce as Deadlock.

Those thoughts were enough, and his kiss intensified. Deadlock grinned and in a sultry voice said, “Good mech.” He nipped Hot Rod’s lower lip and then took control as if he never needed help standing up. Instead he wrapped his arms around Hot Rod’s mid back and pulled him flush.

Hot Rod playfully pushed back against Deadlock’s shoulders. “Who says you lead?”

“This is my ship; therefore, I lead,” Deadlock growled, but not with any threaten to his voice. He stepped between Hot Rod’s legs and used his arms to twist Hot Rod’s body and set his back on the table. Hot Rod’s arms stayed on his shoulders but didn’t push back.

“I’m sure that back bend is terribly uncomfortable,” Deadlock purred, “so put your legs around my waist.”

Hot Rod did just that while rubbing Deadlock as he moved his legs into place. One hand reached partway up. “Get down here so I can play with those finials.”

“I said _I’m_ in control.” He ran a hand down Hot Rod’s side and then cut across his hip seams to toy with Hot Rod’s inner thigh. He pinched and rolled a seam cable.

Hot Rod yipped and shuddered. “Then control what you give me to play with.”

“Here,” Deadlock said as he gave his other hand to Hot Rod. “Get these wet for when I go for your valve.”

There was a flash of heat in Hot Rod’s valve from just picturing it and he immediately because seductively licking and sucking on Deadlock’s fingers. Meanwhile, Deadlock was tracing one of the legs wrapped around his waist, teasing the various seams.

“So good, such a good mech,” Deadlock praised. “I’m sure that pretty little mouth can do so much.” He bent down and gave Hot Rod another kiss, this time trapping the flame-colored mech’s bottom lip in-between his fangs as he pulled back just enough to stretch it.

He let go and deeply chuckled. Hot Rod heard the soft click of an interface panel open and looked to see Deadlock’s spike pressurizing. The sight was intoxicating, and he leaned up to reach for it.

“No, no,” Deadlock said with a coy smile. He nudged Hot Rod’s legs free. “I said I’m sure that pretty little _mouth_ can do so much more.”

“You’ve never been so right,” Hot Rod seductively smiled right back. He slipped off the table onto his knees as Deadlock backed off. Hot Rod kissed the tip and then rolled his glossa around it. He sunk his mouth over the spike while running his glossa in a spiral around it.

Deadlock groaned and lightly thrust his hips before settling back down and letting Hot Rod work. Switching between fast and shallow bobs, and slow and deep swallows, Hot Rod also used his fingers to stimulate the area around the base of the spike. Soon after Deadlock started moaning more regularly did Hot Rod’s own spike sprang free. He could feel it dribble down his length.

He kept going until Deadlock groaned one more time and then caught his bobbing helm in his hands. “Bend forward over the table,” he ordered.

“And if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll make you.”

“So make me.”

Deadlock smirked and dropped down to Hot Rod’s level and used his thumbs to caress Hot Rod’s cheeks. His fingers rubbed near Hot Rod’s audios.

“Is that all?” Hot Rod teased, just as Deadlock leaned forward until their lips were level.

Deadlock chuckled and Hot Rod ignored it to open his mouth for another kiss. He belatedly realized he shouldn’t have ignored the chuckle when Deadlock suddenly moved south and bit his neck with his fangs.

Hot Rod squeaked and then the rush of heat already building in his system intensified at that bite mark, and as soon as he realized he wasn’t injured he relaxed and moaned. “Wha – what are you doing?”

Deadlock nipped again and then licked the site that bore faint fang marks. “Biting you, of course.”

“Why?”

“What, never indulged in it?”

“No, never… _ngggh_ … do it again.”

“Only if you say please.”

Hot Rod ran a finger down Deadlock’s helm, rolling it along the edges. “I don’t beg with pleases.”

“You will for me.”

Deadlock’s fingers moved down Hot Rod’s face to his neck where he pinched the bite marks, before moving down again and tracing seams. One hand left a trail of wetness in its wake.

Hot Rod’s hands stayed with Deadlock’s helm, letting his fingers rub and slip along the edges as Deadlock’s helm moved to watch his hands. When Deadlock got to his pelvic Hot Rod spread his legs further apart while remaining firmly on his knees.

Deadlock’s hands teasingly brushed Hot Rod’s spike, lightly squeezing the top, before continuing down to his thighs. Deadlock paid special attention to the cables beneath the seams by Hot Rod’s valve. He murmured into Hot Rod’s audio, “Bet you wish I were down there, biting your thighs. You have so many seams, it’s curious how you don’t let go and succumb to my fangs. You know you want to.”

Hot Rod moaned. “Deadlock… you have a way with words.”

“I have better ways with my dentae. All you have to do is say please.”

Hot Rod tilted his helm back. “How about I just open my valve cover and you put that hand I sucked on to good use?”

Deadlock lightly chuckled. “Fair, now open up, my young one.”

Hearing someone say “my young one” in a way that had a possessive tone had Hot Rod’s valve snapping open on its own. He could feel the drip of his valve’s lubricant, running down into Deadlock’s fingers. Deadlock’s fingers obliged and followed the drip up to Hot Rod’s valve opening and rubbed the rim of the folds. His thumb found Hot Rod’s anterior node and started rubbing it softly. Each motion added a little more pressure to it, and every time Deadlock’s hand was low his fingers would graze Hot Rod’s folds.

Hot Rod gasped for air and fought the need to beg for more, to have those digits inside of him. If he could wait it out then Deadlock would oblige Hot Rod’s silent request, even if just to get his own spike inside without ruining the fun.

Just as he was about to whisper something incoherent Deadlock’s hand lifted off his anterior node and the warrior curled his finger to slip it into Hot Rod’s valve. Hot Rod’s gasp was a little louder this time as the finger went about halfway into his valve in one motion.

Deadlock nipped his audio receptor and whispered, “Like that?”

“Yes… and if you do it some more you can take your reward.”

“Oh, I plan to prepare that valve plenty for me to take my ‘reward.’”

Deadlock thrust his finger in and out, edging Hot Rod a little more with each deepened thrust. Once his finger was all the way in, Deadlock immediately added a second finger with one swift thrust. It was shallower, but the unexpected stretch was delicious.

As Deadlock worked the second finger he wondered, “My, you run so hot. I’m going to have to take a cold shower after I ruin you.”

“You mean after I ruin you.”

“How about we both shower after we ruin each other,” Deadlock amended. When his two fingers were fully inside, he started scissoring in and out until he was able to add a third finger. The three fingers tested the stretch of Hot Rod’s rim. “Feels ready to me. Sure you don’t want anything more? Anything you want to ask me for?”

“Just get your spike in me,” Hot Rod quickly said, almost snappishly. He was feeling too empty and he needed a thick spike inside him _now_ to make up for it.

Deadlock’s optics lit up and he licked his lips. “Fine, then. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance for some more foreplay.” He grabbed the back of Hot Rod’s neck as if scruffing him and wrapped his other hand around Hot Rod’s waist. Hot Rod squeaked as he was forcefully moved up to his peds. Deadlock growled, “Turn around and lie face down on the table.”

Hot Rod turned around and Deadlock let go of both holding points. His hands drew to Hot Rod’s hips and he tugged at them to get Hot Rod to spread his legs wider. Hot Rod rested his helm on the table, quivering in anticipation and nervousness, for he’d never let a Decepticon take him before this.

Instead of feeling Deadlock’s spike, he felt Deadlock petting his back and making comforting shushing noises. “When you’re ready,” Deadlock softly encouraged.

The soothing motion and noises were enough to calm Hot Rod down. “I’m ready.” Immediately the tip touched his rim as if it’d been hovering right by it the entire time.

“Are you absolutely sure? Because if I’m going to ruin you, I don’t want to hear I ruined you the wrong way.”

Hot Rod looked back. “You won’t, unless you leave me here without that spike taking my valve.”

“Alright then.” He started thrusting his pelvic so that the tip moved further and further inside almost rapidly. It was a sweet stretch to Hot Rod, where his valve’s elasticity and calipers were being pushed to their limits without the feeling of impending damage. As slick as he was, he knew damage was always possible, but it didn’t feel like a current risk.

They groaned together when Deadlock was fully seated. Once their voices settled Deadlock started pumping his hips faster and faster.

Hot Rod was consumed with the pleasure that was almost rough, but not rough enough for any worry. It was truly a wonderful stretch and speed. The fog that had been there from drinking, that had been steadily growing with lust, overfilled him as Deadlock licked the back of his neck. “If… _nnnngh_ … you wanted to bite me, you can.”

“Ask me for it.”

“No.”

Deadlock slammed into Hot Rod hard and then grinded his hips. Hot Rod cried out and then felt a hand rub his anterior node while Deadlock grinded his hips some more. “Ask me for it.”

Hot Rod didn’t respond with any coherent words, just a babble to get moving again. This time Deadlock did move, but he accentuated every fifth thrust with a hard slam and a sensual rub of Hot Rod’s node, followed by a lick of his neck.

Everything was on fire, including the back of his neck and he wanted the flame to turn into a blaze. After the fourth slam and lick, Hot Rod cried out, “Okay! Please bite me, bite me good.”

Instantly there were fangs on the back of his neck, just off to the side so Deadlock could freely clamp down. His thrusting motions slowed down, and he licked his way across Hot Rod’s neck to the other side so he could bite again. “I enjoy matching my marks,” he explained in a hushed voice around the second bite.

He pulled back and rubbed his thumb over the bite mark on Hot Rod’s right side. “Hmm… that one is a little deeper than the other one. Guess I’ll have to try matching again.” Hot Rod started to say something, whatever it was he didn’t know, but Deadlock’s fangs descended on him too quickly for him to do anything but sharply moan. Deadlock stayed there this time after easing up some on the bite while his hips started moving faster.

Hot Rod was so overwhelmed with all the physical attention and new excitement that the overload took him fast and hard. He cried out and felt his calipers squeeze Deadlock’s moving spike until Deadlock was forced to stop. He threw his helm back and then it dropped to the table, his fans speeding up another level.

Deadlock growled, “I’m not done with you yet.” He pulled out and flipped Hot Rod around before half-carrying, half-pushing Hot Rod backwards into the nearest wall.

Hot Rod stumbled a lot, his legs weak from the potent overload. “I need to find my legs.”

“Wrap them around my waist and I’ll take care of the rest.” Deadlock didn’t give Hot Rod a chance to do it himself, instead lifting him by the aft and running his hands to force Hot Rod’s legs up. Hot Rod’s strength managed to return enough to wrap and lock his ankles into place.

Deadlock lined himself up, one hand bracing against the wall and the other wrapped around Hot Rod’s shoulder, before thrusting in deep in one motion into the slick valve. He rapidly started moving again with no obvious pace, and Hot Rod felt his lingering charge building again. Hot Rod moaned, “Getting hot in here again…”

“You’re telling me?” Deadlock grunted. “You should feel your valve.”

“Just hoping you aren’t done with your tricks before this new charge dissipates.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Deadlock began while licking his lips, “you won’t be left wanting. Maybe left walking funny, but not wanting.”

Hot Rod fully intended to tell him that he was going to hold him to that except right then Deadlock used the new position to grind against Hot Rod’s anterior node. The motion was hard on Hot Rod’s sensitized node and had him arching his back as his helm lightly banged the wall.

Deadlock kept going, plunging deep and rapidly into Hot Rod’s valve for many kliks before grinding against his node. Soon Deadlock said, “Getting close…”

Hot Rod rolled his helm. “I’m not close enough.”

“I’ll fix that.” Deadlock pushed Hot Rod up against the wall further for better support so he didn’t need to brace anymore, and used his freed hand to start rubbing Hot Rod’s spike in time with his own thrusts.

Deadlock worked feverishly hard to chase both their overloads, based on his pace and the sounds of his fans. It was working – Hot Rod’s charge had fully rekindled.

Deadlock suddenly seized up, releasing Hot Rod’s spike, and slammed that hand against the wall as his overload came hard. His transfluid shot into Hot Rod’s ceiling nodes. That combined with the feel of Deadlock’s throbbing spike in Hot Rod’s tight calipers was enough to send his overload crashing all over again.

They sunk to the ground with Deadlock sitting on his calves, and Hot Rod squished between a slumped Deadlock and the wall. He hardly felt it as the aftershocks of his own overload and the slow pulses of his calipers kept his mind elsewhere.

Deadlock groaned and his hands sluggishly moved around until he had Hot Rod in a better hold so that he could roll them to the ground. He repositioned them so that he could pull out while gathering Hot Rod into his arms. Hot Rod was half offline when he heard Deadlock mumble, “Think we’re both sleeping on the floor.”

* * *

Rodimus smiled fondly at the memory. It worked out well enough that Deadlock and his truce held until Neutrals picked them up and took him back to the Autobots while Deadlock flew away. All in all, thanks to a pair of now reformed Decepticons he might have a new fetish. One he planned on trying out again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on posting the Deadlock/Hot Rod chapter this weekend. It's loosely related to this chapter.


End file.
